Crucified

Chapter 2

Hannah was still awake when Jack went up to check on her. He sat on her bed and gently reprimanded her for telling fibs. When she burst into tears and said she was sorry, he hugged and kissed her. As she settled back, he said they were trying to think of a nice name for her baby brother and, as she was his big sister, did she have one she liked? He was unsure about Bob SquarePants but asked her to keep thinking about it.

When he came downstairs, Maggie had lit candles for the table and dimmed the lights.

‘You know, Jack, we could move the big table from the dining room into here and get rid of this old kitchen table. Then we could use this as a kitchen diner, making the dining room obsolete... we hardly use it anyway.’

Jack closed his eyes; he knew where this was heading. ‘Please, Mags, no more knocking down walls.’

‘Not straightaway, but we could open up the dining and living room and make it one huge room. Maybe get a nice big fireplace to replace that hideous tiled thing we’ve got... or make a partitioned area for the kids to play in.’

‘The loft conversion will be a nursery and playroom for them. We can’t afford it anyway.’

‘Well, we do need to talk about money.’

Jack sighed. ‘Tonight is for baby names.’

‘I know you took out an extension on the mortgage which will cost us another five hundred a month,’ Maggie persisted.

‘Look, Mags, I’ve avoided VAT by paying Marius cash, which saves us a lot. He reckons they should be finished next week, so I’ll know the total then.’ Jack smiled reassuringly, wanting to bring the conversation to a close. ‘We’ll manage. Having one car makes a big difference.’ In truth, Jack didn’t know if they’d be OK or not. But there was no point discussing it with Maggie — she didn’t have the whole picture and he wasn’t prepared to enlighten her. He deftly changed the subject. ‘I’ll miss driving the Tesla though. Nice while we had it.’

Maggie frowned. ‘I think it’s awful that Simon’s not been in touch. He’s Hannah’s godfather after all.’

Jack immediately wished he hadn’t mentioned Ridley’s bloody car. ‘He’s abroad,’ he lied quickly. ‘I got an email from him about taking the car back to the dealers.’

‘An email? That all? I thought you were better friends than that,’ Maggie said, shaking her head.

Jack poured himself another glass of wine and tried to get the subject back on track. ‘Right, time we settled our son’s name.’ He was relieved when Maggie left to fetch her list of the names they had discussed so far.

She checked the baby monitor, quickly turning up the volume to listen to the baby’s breathing as it would soon be time for another feed. ‘Any thoughts on godparents?’ she asked.

‘Not yet.’

‘I don’t know if you agree, but I think Marius might be a good idea. I’m sure Penny would like it.’

‘Isn’t he a bit old? I thought it was about being, you know, like a guardian if anything happened to us?’

‘Perhaps you should remind Simon of that when he next surfaces,’ she said, testily. ‘Right, names. What sounds good with Warr?’ She flattened the notes out and picked up a pencil. ‘The names on the list are... Oscar, Nathan, Adam, Daniel, James, Vincent, Henry, Louis...’

Jack leaned back and kept shaking his head as she read out one name after another. ‘Don’t like any of them.’

Maggie pursed her lips in irritation; she knew what he was up to. ‘Stop shaking your head... we are not calling him Horatio! What do you think about Michael? That sounds good with Warr.’

‘Nope, I don’t like that either.’

She was losing her patience. ‘I like Jason, Jason Warr?’

Jack sighed and gulped down the rest of his wine.

Maggie slapped the table with her hand. ‘We need to register his name, Jack. And book a christening and...’

‘I want to call him Horatio. Horatio Hornblower was a brave, defiant captain who sailed his own path. His life was one big adventure. No compromising. He was also the son of a doctor,’ Jack added.

Maggie began to waver. ‘What if we name him after your father? Will that satisfy you?’

‘What... call him Charlie?’

‘Yes, then Horatio can be his middle name if you like.’

Jack thought about it.

Maggie continued nudging. ‘You have to consider the ribbing he’d have to contend with at school if he was called Horatio. I mean, some of the names these film stars call their kids are farcical.’

‘Axl’s all right.’

‘What?’

‘Guns N’ Roses singer’s called Axl’.

‘No,’ Maggie said firmly, unsure whether Jack was being serious. ‘But what about Adam? That sounds good with our surname — Adam Warr. I like that.’

Jack repeated Adam Horatio Warr twice out loud, which seemed to Maggie like a positive sign.

‘Terrific, we’ll sleep on that. I’ll feed and change him.’ Maggie quickly left the room before Jack could say anything else.

Jack had no intention of calling his son Adam. It reminded him of the criminal, Adam Border, who he had hunted obsessively for months, suspecting his involvement in a horrific murder and large-scale drug dealing. He had eventually tracked Border to Ireland and was then offered a bribe he didn’t refuse. Jack accepted the Giacometti painting to end the investigation and let Border go free, hoping he would go underground and never resurface. No, the name ‘Adam’ had all the wrong associations for Jack.

Just after eleven, Jack finished another large glass of wine, went upstairs, showered and got ready for bed. Maggie had already packed a small overnight bag for his visit to the clinic and was now reading. He opened her bedside table drawer and removed a small medicine bottle.

‘If you don’t mind, I’ll take one of your sleeping tablets to get a good night’s rest before the tests tomorrow.’

She worried that Jack was becoming reliant on the sleeping tablets but equally didn’t want him having a nightmare and lashing out. ‘I’d like you here with me tonight so if it helps you sleep, that’s fine. I’ll give him his next feed with us here in bed.’

A minute later, when Maggie put down her book and rolled over to face him, Jack was asleep. She turned off his night light and placed her phone beneath her pillow on ‘vibrate’ to wake her for the feed without disturbing him.

Maggie was in a deep sleep when Jack suddenly started pushing her in the back with both arms. He kicked out, making hard contact with her legs. She jumped out of bed and saw the look of fear on his face as he shouted through clenched teeth. ‘Stay away from me. Leave me alone, get back. I don’t know you. I can’t find you.’

She stood watching anxiously as he punched and kicked out, his body twisting and turning. She cautiously went to his side and shook his shoulder.

‘Jack, Jack, wake up. WAKE UP!’

His eyes opened wide in fear, not knowing where he was. He was panting and gasping for breath as he pulled himself into a sitting position. ‘Oh God, it happened again... are you all right, Mags?’

‘I’m fine. You were thrashing about and shouting, “stay away from me”, like you were seeing ghosts. God, Jack, you looked so scared.’ The baby monitor crackled, followed by the sound of Piglet crying. Maggie went to him while Jack, feeling nauseous, sat up rubbing his throbbing head — he was so hot, sweating like he’d done a workout at the gym. He got out of bed, snatching a cotton throw from the floor and staggered into the bathroom. He lay down on the cold tiles and covered himself with the throw.

By the time Maggie returned, Jack was asleep and, not wanting to disturb him, she reluctantly left him on the bathroom floor for the night. She wanted him with her, needed him. But he wasn’t ready.

Maggie was up and dragging on her dressing gown in the morning when Jack emerged sheepishly from the bathroom, looking dreadful.

‘I’ll just feed him, then make us some breakfast. You grab a shower, and I’ll order an Uber to take you to the clinic.’

‘I’m sorry about last night.’ Jack’s voice had little life to it. Being so out of control of his own actions had drained him.

Maggie wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. She felt so sorry for him. ‘They will get this sorted. You’ll be back to your normal self in no time.’

‘I hope so because I can’t go on like this... and it’s not fair on you. I’m completely knackered, and my head feels like it’s going to explode.’

Jack looked better after his shower, but he hardly touched the bacon and eggs Maggie had prepared. He was very attentive to Hannah, who was eating a bowl of cornflakes and splashing milk around her plastic mat that covered the gingham tablecloth. Jack did a shocked face every time a splash of milk came his way, and it made Hannah laugh.

Penny and Maggie were discussing different formulas for the baby, as he had vomited after the one Maggie tried the day before. She was still breastfeeding as much as possible, but she knew it wasn’t enough.

‘Can you see if you can find one with a low iron content?’ Maggie asked.

As Penny made a note so she wouldn’t forget, she was also side-eyeing Jack. She’d heard him scream out during the night, as he had done on many other occasions. But although he looked all right now, she wasn’t going to ask him about it. He’d been short-tempered with her whenever she broached the subject, so she was now leaving it all to Maggie.

The Uber arrived and Jack would have left without his overnight bag if Maggie hadn’t handed it to him. It was a routine goodbye, as though he was just off on a work trip. Maggie didn’t fuss, didn’t wish him good luck. She closed the front door and controlled the tears before heading back to the kitchen.

‘Do you think they’ll be able to help him?’ Penny asked.

‘God, I hope so. On top of everything else, he’s had terrible headaches lately. They’ll give him an MRI scan to see...’ She saw the shock on Penny’s face, so quickly put on her doctor’s voice, kind but clear. ‘It’s a good thing, Penny. There’s family history of brain tumours on his mum’s side?’ Penny nodded. ‘Then we need to rule that out.’

Maggie was sorry for bringing it up. To all intents and purposes, Penny was Jack’s mother, having adopted him when he was just a toddler. Pouring a fresh cup of coffee, Maggie sat at the table, lifted Penny’s hand and kissed it. She whispered so Hannah couldn’t hear.

‘I’m sorry for asking, Penny. I’m just worried about Jack. His nightmares and insomnia started during that recent murder trial, so that could be the reason. Or the stress of that could have triggered a physical issue. It could even be depression or anxiety. But he avoids talking about it, and I don’t actually think he wants to return to work. I want to talk to Simon Ridley, you know, his old boss, but he seems to have disappeared. He was a mentor to Jack... what with all the pressure of the baby, I wish he had a man to confide in.’

‘Well, let’s hope the sleep clinic can help,’ Penny said, trying to be positive. ‘And we can distract ourselves by taking Hannah to get her school uniform later. It’s a special morning when parents can look at second-hand uniforms. I put it in the kitchen diary.’

‘Sorry, I forgot all about it,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll come with you. And there’s something I haven’t told you... I think we’ve almost agreed on a name for the baby. What do you think about Adam?’

Hannah pushed a half-eaten slice of toast away, got down from the table, and clung to Penny’s arm as she sipped the dregs of her coffee and frowned.

‘Adam?’

‘Yes, we think it sounds good with our surname. It’s sort of a deal I had to make, so Jack can’t call him Horatio — that’ll be his middle name.’

Penny couldn’t hide her disappointment. ‘I thought he was going to call him after his dad.’

Maggie pushed her chair back, not wanting an argument. It was obvious Penny didn’t like Adam. ‘Right, I am going to get me and the baby dressed. Then we’ll all go to get your new uniform, Hannah.’

Penny whispered to Hannah. ‘What do you think of calling your baby brother Adam?’

Hannah shook her head vehemently. ‘No. Bob SquarePants!’

Once they were ready, Maggie put the baby in his car seat and waited for Penny and Hannah to join her. She was thinking of talking to Penny about getting an au pair, but knew she would have to tread carefully as Penny was very protective of her position in the household. However, the original idea that Penny would learn to drive had not been successful and after a couple of lessons, she had decided against it. So hiring an au pair who could drive would make sense. Whether it would be a live-in situation would also have to be discussed, but they would have room when the loft extension was done.

Jack was in the process of having an MRI scan at the clinic before meeting a therapist to discuss his sleep disorder. He would have further tests throughout the day then be left in a room to monitor his sleep pattern. He was calm, quite enjoying the attention and hopeful of a positive outcome.

It was early evening when Maggie received Jack’s text and selfie. He was standing by the bed in his boxer shorts, with an alarming array of wires attached to his head, torso and legs. His text said that he’d had the MRI and was now expected to go to sleep with hundreds of wires forcing him to stay on his back and a nurse spying on him via a camera link. He was certain that the whole procedure would be a waste of time.

The picture made Maggie laugh. She texted back, saying she hoped he didn’t get an electric shock and ending with, ‘I love you very much.’

That night, Penny had the baby monitor and would see to the baby. So, for the first time in months, Maggie slept straight through.

The following morning, Penny had taken Hannah to the park and Maggie had just settled the baby down for his morning sleep when Jack arrived home. He called out and she hurried down the stairs to greet him. He put his overnight bag and a second larger bag down in the kitchen and hugged her.

‘How did it go?’

He flicked the kettle on. ‘Like I thought... a waste of bloody time. I hardly slept, and when I did, all they recorded was me snoring and my eyes twitching. They’ve given me something called Melatonin, but if it doesn’t help, I may have to go back for another sleepover. On the plus side, they gave me a two-week sick note — sorry, “fit note” — due to lack of sleep and stress.’

‘What’s in the other bag?’

‘A CPAP machine.’ Jack opened the bag and put the machine on the worktop. ‘Continuous Patient... something.’

‘Continuous Positive Airway Pressure,’ Maggie said, having seen patients using them many times. ‘So did they say you could have sleep apnoea?’ Jack’s nod was uncertain, and Maggie knew that he hadn’t listened properly. ‘This pumps a continuous flow of air through a long tube attached to a breathing mask.’

Jack found the mask and put it on, making Maggie laugh out loud. He spoke in a Darth Vader voice: ‘Follow me to the dark side, Maggie Warr.’

Maggie hugged him. ‘I’d follow you anywhere, Jack Warr.’

Jack took the mask off so he could kiss her.

‘I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your breathing when you sleep, but we’ll give it a go,’ Maggie said. ‘What about the MRI?’

‘The results will go to Hargreaves since he referred me to the sleep clinic. He’ll arrange another appointment after he’s seen the results... if he can find the time to read them, that is!’

Jack slept well for the next two nights and it seemed the CPAP machine was helping. On the third night, he tore off the mask and began thrashing about, shouting and punching so violently that he fell out of bed and cut his head open on the bedside cabinet. After that, he decided it was best if he slept on the sofa until his next appointment with Hargreaves. When he phoned the sleep clinic and told them what had happened, the doctor said to keep using the CPAP machine, but to stop taking the melatonin and replace it with trazodone, an antidepressant which helps with problems like insomnia. The clinic doctor emailed Jack’s GP and the next day Maggie collected the prescription and took it to the local chemist.

Doubtful that drugs were of any use, Jack started working out for two hours a day at the gym instead of his usual one hour, hoping that excess physical exertion would tire him out and make him sleep better. It didn’t.

Anxious and feeling Jack was now stuck in a vicious cycle, Maggie made an appointment to see Doctor Hargreaves herself. She didn’t tell Jack. She said she was going to the hairdressers.

Hargreaves had read the sleep clinic report and Jack’s MRI results, and the first thing he said was that there was no tumour or other physical issues with Jack’s brain. He asked if the antidepressant tablets were helping.

Maggie sighed and shook her head. ‘He said they make him feel lethargic during the day and he’s finding concentrating difficult. The CPAP machine has helped a bit, I think, but he’s still having nightmares... which makes it even more dangerous with that mask attached to his face. He ended up with the tube wrapped around his neck the other night.’

Hargreaves made some notes then looked thoughtful. ‘Did Jack have any sleep problems when you first met?’

‘No. He can’t recall ever suffering from insomnia or nightmares before. I even asked his mother... she said he was never a restless sleeper until recently.’

Hargreaves leaned back in his chair. He knew discussing a patient’s medical condition was unethical, even with the spouse. However, Maggie was a friend and also a medical professional, so they were bound by the same oath of confidentiality. That blurred the lines sufficiently for Hargreaves to continue.

‘In his sessions with the sleep clinic psychiatrist, Jack said he could never remember the content of his nightmares. But the situation only manifested during a recent trial?’

Maggie nodded. ‘Yes, Rodney Middleton. He murdered several young women.’

‘Then, rather than sleep apnoea, it’s more likely Jack has parasomnia. His nightmares are troubling; intense dreams that cause anger, anxiety or fear. The punching and kicking occurs because he acts out his dreams. The disorder is associated with multiple triggers, including stress, anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress.’

Maggie nodded. ‘I knew Jack was under a lot of pressure even before the trial started. He doesn’t like to talk about it... in fact, he loathes bringing his work home. We both feel that way, especially as time together as a family is precious. I also had to deal with a lot of darkness and tragedy during the pandemic. We put it aside.’

‘Quite natural,’ Hargreaves said. ‘But you must persuade him to talk now, Maggie. To you, or me, or a therapist of his choice. Keeping it all inside isn’t working. Hypnosis might be a good next step if you can get him to agree. Recalling nightmares is the last thing the sufferer wants to do, but he must face his fears out in the open if he’s to move on.’

Middleton knew that all prison phone calls were monitored and recorded, with the exception of calls with people identified by Rule 39 — legal counsel, the courts, anyone from the law society. These calls were the only ones with a guarantee of privacy. After her release, Middleton’s girlfriend, Amanda Dunn, had joined the zero-hours, slave-fucking-labour cleaning agency used by the firm of solicitors representing Middleton so that, after hours and using the name of one of the legal team, she could call him or be there waiting for him to call her. As far as the prison was concerned, the woman on the phone was paralegal Gail Leadbetter and not Middleton’s partner in some of the most horrific murders they’d ever come across.

At this moment, Middleton was talking quietly into the prison’s public payphone, instructing Amanda to bring him drugs, hidden inside a Kinder Egg toy capsule which she would insert into her vagina. He dribbled on the mouthpiece of the phone as he imagined taking the egg back to his cell, the drugs on the inside and the smell of her on the outside. As he spoke, he cupped his groin and squeezed rhythmically.

‘Tell me you’re listening. Let me hear you.’ But before she could respond, Middleton’s two minutes came to an abrupt end.

Maggie was on her way home with two full bags of groceries, sighing heavily. Getting Jack to even consider hypnosis would be a tough sell. She intended to spend one more month off before going back to the hospital and she prayed that during that time they would find something to help Jack’s condition.

In the meantime she had the christening to arrange and either an au pair or nanny to hire, whether Penny liked it or not. As she was thinking, Maggie immediately hit the familiar brick wall of not knowing where their finances were at. Could they even afford to employ help? Her personal account was overdrawn, and she assumed their joint account had very little money left. When the loft was completed, there’d be another hefty cash payment to find. Then she remembered Hannah’s school fees... It was never-ending.

Maggie opened the front door, pausing to listen when she heard Jack’s infectious belly laugh. What a lovely sound! And so rare in recent months. Then she heard Hannah’s high-pitched squeal.

‘Daddy, do it again!’

Opening the dining room door, Maggie saw the table and chairs stacked against one wall and, covering most of the floor space, a blow-up mattress. Jack rolled around laughing as Hannah jumped up and down in excitement. Each time she landed, Jack released the pump which created a loud farting sound.

‘Daddy’s doing bottom burps!’

Maggie grinned. ‘I can hear! Where’s your mum?’ she asked Jack.

‘Upstairs with the baby.’

‘I’ve ordered a KFC. It’ll save me having to cook,’ Maggie said.

‘I’ll eat with Josh when he arrives.’

Maggie had forgotten his American friend was coming to stay. Of course! That was why he’d got out the inflatable bed.

‘The spare duvet and pillows are in Penny’s wardrobe. Sheets and stuff are in the airing cupboard. Where’s the big table?’

‘Ah, we moved that into the kitchen. The old pine table is in the garden.’

‘Fine by me. Come on, Hannah. Bath time.’

Maggie bathed Hannah and put her into her pyjamas, then let her play in her bedroom while she settled the baby after his feed. Just after seven, she went back to the dining room where Jack was putting the fitted sheet onto the blow-up bed.

‘I’ll move the dining chairs into the kitchen,’ she said. ‘It’ll be great we won’t need a dining room when we have a big kitchen-diner.’

She was shocked when Jack suddenly rounded on her. ‘I’ve made room for my friend to stay over, not agreed to knocking more walls down. Gimme a break. I’ve had enough of the place looking like a building site. Plus, Marius has cost a fortune, even cash in hand. And, let’s face it, we won’t know if the work is any good until they’ve all packed up and gone.’

This wasn’t the first time recently Jack had snapped at her out of nowhere. ‘I think they’ve been really professional,’ she said evenly.

‘Well I’m sick and tired of them being here. And of you acting like a fucking interior designer, getting them to do even more work.’

Maggie couldn’t control herself any longer. ‘Well, it’s not as if you were any help, Jack! I’ve had to oversee it all.’

‘Because you instigated it all!’ he retorted.

She wanted to fight back but could see that it would just make things worse. He was getting more agitated by the second.

‘Have you taken your medication?’

Jack threw his hands up. ‘I’m not taking any more of those bloody anti-depression tablets. They made me feel like shit. So, what did Hargreaves say about me?’ He waited for her to answer. ‘Well, you’ve clearly not had your hair done, Mags. So, what did he say?’

‘Fine, so you caught me out. I wanted to speak to him personally because things aren’t getting any better. You’ll be pleased to know the MRI shows you don’t have a tumour, Parkinson’s or ME. Hargreaves thinks you have parasomnia. It’s a sleep disorder...’

‘I know what it is!’ Jack interrupted. ‘The shrink at the clinic went through all the possibilities with me.’

‘I have some leaflets from Hargreaves. They advise about self-help for parasomnia... they might be worth a read.’

Jack dropped his head and rested his hands on his hips. He seemed exhausted — physically and mentally.

‘I don’t think there is a cure, Mags.’

‘We have to keep trying, Jack. Your nightmares are a danger to both of us.’

‘Then I’ll sleep on this blow-up bed when Josh has gone. That suit you better?’

Maggie knew that turning on her was just Jack deflecting. He was worried. She went on carefully. ‘There was something else Hargreaves suggested.’

Jack didn’t move, didn’t ask. He almost looked like he was asleep standing up.

‘He thinks hypnosis might help and...’

Jack looked up sharply. ‘No fuckin’ way. I’ve had electrodes plastered all over my body, been on one medication after another and tried that stupid breathing machine. He’s clutching at straws. He’s clueless.’

‘He’s used hypnosis with parasomnia patients many times and, in general, it was a success.’

‘He’ll have me regressing to God knows where, reliving God knows what...’ Jack checked himself. He was starting to sound irrational. He took a deep breath and whispered, ‘Fine, I’ll think about it.’

It was like bashing her head against a wall, so Maggie changed the subject. ‘When are you going back to work?’

‘In a couple of weeks, when the sick note, fit note, whatever it is, runs out. But I don’t know if I want to stay at the same station or apply for a transfer.’

‘OK.’ Maggie took over making the bed. Jack stood and watched, like a useless child. Maggie took a deep breath, knowing she had to broach another delicate topic. ‘I can go back to work full-time in about four weeks. I could ask about part-time, but we need the money. Me being full-time would obviously mean a lot of extra work for Penny.’ Maggie heard Jack sigh behind her. He knew what she was about to say, but it needed saying regardless. ‘I know Hannah will be at school from nine till three, but someone has to take her there and back and the baby will be here all day.’ Maggie stood up and faced Jack as she put on the duvet cover. ‘It’s a lot for your mum, Jack.’

‘She says she’s fine.’

‘Of course she does. I haven’t talked to Penny yet, but we will have the space now with the loft conversion. If we get an au pair that would be live-in, an experienced nanny would be part-time.’

‘God, Maggie.’ Jack rubbed his forehead hard. ‘We’d both be working full-time to pay a stranger to help Mum, who can do it all for free. That doesn’t make sense.’

Now Maggie was the one becoming frustrated. ‘Jack, I’m overdrawn at the bank, our joint account has to be nearly at zero and we haven’t furnished the loft yet.’

‘Fuck the bloody loft! If there’s no one living in it, we don’t need to furnish it do we!’ His booming voice made Maggie jump. Jack turned down the volume as he continued, but he was still just as intimidating. ‘We’re not getting a live-in au pair — or a part-time nanny for that matter. That’s the end of it, Mags — I mean it.’ Jack took a step forward and almost whispered his final comment. ‘And I’m well aware that we don’t have a pot to piss in.’

Maggie realised that she was holding her breath. Jack had stepped into her space and that scared her. She was relieved when Penny called out that the KFC had arrived. Maggie dropped the half-done duvet to the floor and left. She’d never seen him so angry... not with her. Whether it was down to his medication or lack of sleep, she knew she had to find a solution to his problem.

She needed her husband back.